


Supernova

by autotheft, Wayward_Artist



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Fallout AU, M/M, apocolypse AU, au af basically, takes place during the war so the mage never died
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7627309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autotheft/pseuds/autotheft, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Artist/pseuds/Wayward_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a violent war raging at Watford, and Simon starts to realize he's on the wrong side of it. After a betrayal from someone he thought he could trust, he lets his magic go off on an incredible scale. The world he and his friends wake up to isn't the one any of them remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Fallout 4 inspired :0 This is a collab with Wayward_Artist, and these first couple of chapters were written by both of us. Unfortunately I don't think she will be joining me in adding to this anymore but if she does I'll let you know. Enjoy!

**_Simon POV_ **

Simon staggered into the open, magic oozing from every pore of his body. He looked around and saw men and women giving their lives on the battlefield. And what for? Was this cause really worthy enough? These were the questions Simon asked himself, second guessing everything he’d thought to be true. He saw these people, these war machines heading for self-destruction, and no longer saw nobility in their actions. He saw foolishness.

All he wanted right now was Baz. After everything, after all of this, he wanted to be in his boyfriend’s arms. That’s what they were, right? Boyfriends? He had so many questions- it made his stomach lurch to think he might die without knowing the answers. He hadn’t seen Baz since the Mage had requested him to go back to Watford, and it had pained him to tell Baz that he couldn’t help him find out what happened to his mother. The look on Baz’s face… It hurt Simon’s heart thinking about it.. He missed him so much. He hadn’t spoken to Baz or Penny since then. The humdrum had taken more and more magic and, before he was ready, he was thrown head first into a war.

He started to quicken his pace, pushing himself to go faster, because he _had_ to find Baz. Simon knew he was here somewhere, fighting for the other side, for the enemy. He could feel Baz’s magic was a beacon that was muddled with the dull spells of others. An intrusive thought made his feet stumble. Baz was fighting for the enemy, but did that make him Simon’s enemy? Baz wouldn’t hurt him… would he?

Now Simon started to second guess that too. The thought made his stomach drop.

Simon was hurt and vulnerable- he had wounds scattered over his body, and his magic was strained and unbalanced. His side had been cut; he didn’t know how deep, but he could feel blood seep into his undershirt like a sponge. It was getting harder for him to remain upright and his vision was starting to blur. He could see swirls of colour; red, orange and yellow all mixing together against the dark night sky- the contrast hurt his eyes. His body was screaming at him to stop, pleading for a break. He knew he was making his wounds worse from the exertion but he didn’t fucking care; he couldn’t stop now.

He looked around the clearing, seeing trees lit up like bonfires. He covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve so he wouldn’t breathe in too much smoke. The ground was slick with mud and footprints layered on top of each other, going  in every direction. Simon couldn’t help drawing in a deep breath, and then the smoke filled his lungs, making him cough and splutter. His eyes scanned the area, but  they were brimming with tears and everything was a blur. He wasn’t sure if that was because of the smoke or the hopeless pit in his stomach that was swelling up. He felt sick.

His knees gave in, and he fell down, smacking his head on the frost of the ground. Everything went silent apart from the ringing in his ears.

_“Simon-”_

The voice wasn’t in his ears, but in his mind. They floated around his thoughts, their sharp edges juxtaposed against his clouded mind.

_“Simon… wake up… You…”_

**_“Wake up, you fucking disappointment!”_ **

There was magic in those words; angry, bitter words full of greed and hatred. All Simon wanted was rest, but his eyes snapped open against his will. He couldn’t control it, and he felt his body surge with heat and _it hurt._ All he could do was think to himself; _I want to die._ He’d be okay with dying here.

“Do you want to explain?” The question slithered around his mind almost choking the oxygen out of him. His stomach was bubbling with acid; it felt like the words had poisoned him like a snake.

It was a rhetorical question, but Simon went to open his mouth anyways. Yet however hard he tried, he couldn’t form any words. He felt numb. He was laying on the ground, and he could see a pair of shoes inches away from his face. He couldn't even blink his eyes, they were being held wide open by a powerful magic.

“I thought you could handle the pressure, I thought that you could carry us to victory!” The words were out loud now, flooding his ears and making them feel raw. It felt like warm blood was oozing out of his ear canals and pooling onto the frozen ground.

The figure bent down and now Simon could look them in the eye. It was a man with a deranged, yet determined, look on his face. His mouth was twisted in disgust. He glared at the crumpled boy in front of him and sneered. It was the Mage.

“Look at you, Simon,” He grasped at Simon’s face, holding it tightly like he was going to cave his skull in, “you’re weak… Just like your mother was.” He spat maliciously in Simon’s face and stood back up, his movements were jerky and impatient.

Simon still couldn’t move, he daren’t even breathe. He couldn’t even cry; his eyes burning, and his dry lips were cracked with blood. He felt the pit in his stomach swell and overwhelm his body. Sorrow filled his heart and it felt like his chest was being held underneath a heavy weight. That weight was the crushing realisation that he had been on the wrong side since the beginning.

“To think I ever thought you could handle all that power.” The Mage continued his speech in a condescending tone, pacing slightly. Simon noticed it was just like when the Mage paid him visits in Watford, but he could hear the power fueled insanity behind the words now. The mask had been broken.

“The power that I gave you! That _we_ gave you!” He sounded excited,like he wanted to rip Simon apart.

**“Up on your feet!”**

Simon suddenly felt his whole body surge with a magic that felt as cold as ice. It made his blood and his body feel frostbitten, and he felt shivers down his backbone. It hurt Simon how different it was from Baz’s magic. Baz’s was warm, and safe; the Mage’s felt like an intruder.

He was lifted from the ground, everything came spinning back into view. He was stood upright now, but his feet didn’t feel truly grounded and that made him feel uneasy, like the Mage could send him flying at any moment. 

“You’re broken. You’re broken, Simon.” The Mage looked at him with disappointment. Simon had no idea how he had ever trusted him. The words pierced his ears and his chest was smashed wide open. Even though he knew it was obvious how evil the Mage was, Simon still felt betrayed.

“You’re broken, but I can fix you.”

The Mage began to stride towards him, reaching out with his right arm and cupping Simon’s face like he was a child. His hands felt like blocks of ice, Simon wanted to pull away, he wanted to get away, but the Mage’s magic had too much of a grip on his weak body, and he was still losing blood.  
“Trust me, Simon, I need you to trust me.” His voice was like ice; smooth, sharp, jagged edges.

The last thing Simon wanted to do was trust him, but he had no choice. All he could do was stare into the Mage’s eyes and try and fight the magic that was rendering his limbs useless. He didn’t know any spells to counter whatever the fuck the Mage was doing to him, and even if he did know something, he couldn’t even speak. He was a ragdoll at this psychopath’s disposal.

“Whatever it was that you did, with Basilton, I want you to do that with me. Give me your magic Simon, and I can end this war!”

The Mage’s grip on simon’s face tightened, he looked into Simon’s eyes, and saw his own warped reflection in them as Simon’s tears were pooling up and streaming down his face like a water pipe. Simon wanted to scream, he didn’t like being grasped like this, and he didn’t want to give any of his magic to him. Besides, he wasn’t sure if the Mage could handle his magic (he was a strong magician, but his mind was so gone); only Baz had been able to use it successfully so far. The Mage let go of Simon’s face and took a step backwards.

“That’s what you want right, for all this killing to stop?”

He kept his gaze locked onto Simon’s eyes, he looked desperate now, Simon could see his patience was starting to wear thin.

Suddenly, Simon felt his head go limp;  as the Mage lost control, the spell began to weaken. He dropped to his knees, cutting his hands on the ground. He coughed and choke on the overwhelming tears spilling from his eyes. Before he could stop himself he screamed at the top of his lungs. Not because he was signalling help, but because the sorrow in his heart had been filled with pure _rage_ . Through the red haze, all he wanted was to slit that fucker’s throat open and watch him gargle on his own fucking blood. How _dare_ he think he can just use him, after all these years Simon had been so fucking clueless. He had defended this man’s actions. _He looked up to him_. But the almighty and powerful Mage really was just a broken man.

“ **Get away from me**.” He choked out. The Mage stumbled back astounded by the power that resided in those words. Simon looked up at the Mage, his eyes dark, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. He willed himself to stand up, and he felt his magic winding around his limbs.His body shimmering with sharp, electric Magic. All his wounds, weaknesses, and pain were put on the back burning. For once, he let his anger take over. He let himself lose control.

He didn’t even speak to use his magic, moving like it was an extension of his body. He swung his arm and the Mage was flung against a tree, pinned as if he was tied with ropes. Simon saw trees, and grass wilt around him. He felt his magic crashing under his skin like a storm.

“Your eyes,” The mage choked, as if a rope was around his neck. “They’re red.”

Simon floated until he was level with the Mage’s face. He spat, blood and saliva flinging from his mouth.

“You’re pathetic.” Simon hissed. He was shaking from how much he despised the Mage. His magic twisted the invisible ropes tighter. His words couldn’t translate the anger he felt.

“Go to hell.”

Simon let out a scream as he felt his magic surge through his arm. As hs swung his arm forward, he felt the sword appear in his hand. His eyes radiated with red, but he jerked when he felt his arm lock. The sword was an inch from the Mage’s throat, and Simon’s chest was heaving.

Through the overpowering magic that controlled his body, he forced himself to stop. It didn’t matter how much he fucking hated the Mage. He couldn’t kill him. He was evil, and wretched, but he had been the closest thing Simon had to family.

Simon’s hesitation had given the Mage enough time to dig his wand out from his sleeve. He muttered a spell Simon couldn’t hear. Simon’s eyes went wide as he was pushed back, his magic stopping him from slamming his head into the ground. The Mage dropped from the tree, dragging an arm against his mouth.

“You foolish boy.” His voice was verging on hysterical laughter. “You thought you could actually kill me?”

Before Simon could react the Mage threw his arm forward, pointing his wand at Simon. Simon felt the most horrible feeling he had ever experienced. It felt as though all the energy, and adrenaline, and magic he had was leaking away from his control. He looked at the Mage in horror, and saw the Mage’s eyes were starting to illuminate with the same glow that Simon’s eyes had.

“What are you-” Simon gasped and clawed at his neck as he felt his magic draining away. He felt tears slip down his cheeks. He didn’t feel the rage, or strength anymore. Simon felt scared.

The Mage was baring his teeth in a twisted smile. His arms were held out at Simon, shaking with the power.

“I gave you so many chances.” The Mage spat. “We could have been great. We could have been the most powerful wizards in the world.” He shook his head, “And you threw it all away. Now I’m taking what’s mine.”

Simon felt dread drop in his stomach like bricks. He panicked at the thought of losing his magic. It was just… unfathomable. His magic was such a big part of him, he depended on it. He started to fight against the Mage’s spell, desperate to escape his grasp. The adrenaline was replaced with terror, and he gritted his teeth forcing the Mage’s spell away.

The Mage wavered at Simon’s resistance. He flicked his wrist, and Simon was thrown back at the wave of magic. The Mage laughed in a sickening way, his voice rough and disturbed.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He asked. “I taught you better than that.”

Simon experienced a brief feeling of doubt. He was weak compared to the Mage; the Mage had been his mentor, he would know all of Simon’s moves. He was driven, and determined. Simon’s arms fell slack. He was exhausted, and he didn’t even know what he was fighting for. He wasn’t on the Mage’s side, nor the other. He was lost, and tired. His heart ached for Baz.

“Giving up?” The Mage asked at the lack of fight. Simon glared at him, heaving his lungs to breathe. He was on his back, holding himself up slightly with his elbows. His muscles were sore, and he just wanted to go to sleep. Or die. Whichever came first, he didn’t really care.

The Mage shook his head in mock disappointment. “You were so strong just a moment ago, Simon. You had so much fight in you, and anger.” He threw his head back and let out a loud laugh that echoed out around them. Another wave of Magic. “Now you’re the pathetic one.”

Simon closed his eyes. Each word hit him with another shock of the spell. He was so hurt, and tired. He felt dizzy. His arms gave up, and his magic wasn’t strong enough to protect his head this time. He felt pain emit from the back of his head, and his muscles collapsed against the ground. He didn’t decide to stop fighting; the decision was already made for him. He was a child who had picked a fight with the monster under his bed.


	2. Penny and Baz

**_Penny POV._ **

Penny felt it. She had been fighting someone named Fiona (she knew she was related to Baz, but she didn’t know how) when she was thrown back against the wall of the castle. She gasped as she felt her entire body tense, and sting. She pried her eyes open to see people collapsing everywhere. It took her a moment to orient her senses, but once she found her breath she recognized the feeling. It was magic, overflowing her body. And it was Simon’s. 

_ Simon. _ She thought. She had seen a few flashes of blond hair through the fighting, but other than that she hadn’t seen him in a long time. She forced herself to stand up, and stumbled; she wasn’t strong enough to handle his magic, but she was stronger than others. Fiona had leaned heavily against the wall, her eyes squeezed shut in pain, and her arm wrapped around her torso.

Penny stumbled through the battlefield, shocked at the scene. Simon’s magic had rendered almost everyone to the ground. A few older wizards were shakily standing, trying to figure out where the source was. She jumped as she heard an earsplitting scream. Her head snapped to the side and she saw Agatha was curled onto the ground, hands over her ears sobbing. Agatha let out another choked scream, but Penny couldn’t stop. She had to find Simon. 

She could see light by the edge of the forest, through the field into a mix of spotlights and shadows.

“Simon?” She yelled. She could move easier now, and at first she felt relief. But then she realized it meant Simon’s magic wasn’t as strong. Through a clearing, she saw what looked like the Mage, and Simon. Penny began to quicken her pace, craning her neck to get a better glimpse of what was going on. There was a flash of light and bright sparks were being carried through the air by short bursts of wind. She saw the Mage with his wand drawn and pointing directly at Simon, he looked weak. The Mage flung him backwards against the ground and Penny winced as she saw his head crack against the hard mud. She felt anger bubble inside of her, what the fuck was the Mage doing? He was supposed to be on their side. Even though she had noticed how selfish he was long before Simon, she would never have thought… Simon had idolized him, and now the Mage was killing him.

She was too far away, and she wasn’t moving fast enough. She wiped the tears away from her eyes with clenched fists, and forced her legs to drag her forward. She had to help Simon. She saw people start to lift their heads up; instead of moving through cement like it was before, it felt like running through water. The magic was still overbearing, but it was lessened. 

“Bunce!” 

Penny turned to see Baz running towards her. He was covered in blood, and his black hair was stuck to his forehead from sweat. Instinctively she held her wand up, and her feet fell into a defensive stance. She had just been fighting one of his relatives, and she didn’t know whose side he was on.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Baz said stopping himself before he reached her, making sure to stand at least a foot away. “Usually when you attack people you don’t warn them.” He seemed almost unaffected by Simon’s magic. But she noticed that his fingers were twitching. 

Penny hesitantly lowered her wand. She didn’t fully trust Baz (so much had happened in the war) but they needed to save Simon. 

“Snow,” Baz said nodding at the forest. They didn’t have time to discuss a plan. “We need to go.”

“Right.” She said. She grabbed his wrist. She knew how much Simon loved him, but she couldn’t help but be a little bit skeptical. She had to be wary for Simon and herself; she had seen Baz fighting her friends. “If you betray us…” She looked at him, and he almost looked hurt. 

Baz clenched his jaw. “I’d never hurt him.”

She let go of his wrist and nodded. Maybe they had gotten along at one point, but now the only thing keeping them together now was Simon. 

They started running towards the forest, Baz a few steps in front of Penny. People were starting to heave themselves up, and they shot a few spells their way. Penny and Baz blocked spells for each other; Penny shot defensive spells, while Baz fought to kill. 

They were within 50 feet of Simon when Penny collapsed to her knees. She clutched her chest, and let out a sob. She could feel Simon’s pain, and hurt. She had fallen from being in such close range to such evil magic. Taking away someone else’s magic was a dark, and heavy spell. 

Baz dropped in front of her, grabbing her shoulder. “We have to keep going.” He said through gritted teeth. He must have felt it too. She saw a tear slip from his eye. Baz didn’t wait for her to catch her breath. He heaved her up by her arms, and pulled her along. He was strong, but he couldn’t take the Mage by himself. 

The Mage looked up as he heard them approach. Simon was crumpled on the ground almost 10 feet away. Penny’s heart ached. She wanted to grab him and run and hide him away where nobody could hurt him. She should have done that before the war.

“Simon!” She yelled, crying. She saw his head twitch, and his eyes opened. Simon clawed at the ground, trying to pull himself up. He tried to talk but Penny could only hear broken speech. She turned her gaze to the Mage. “You sick bastard.” She spat. 

She pointed her wand at him, and shouted spells, one after another. She couldn’t keep track of what she was saying. It was a constant stream of angry magic. The Mage was barely affected by her magic on its own, but when Baz joined in he was pushed back a step. 

“Go get Snow.” Baz growled. “I’ll take care of the Mage.” He didn’t take his eyes off of the Mage, and muttered spells as fast as he could between breaths, “Go!”

Penny pushed away from Baz, still shooting spells. She heard a  _ whoosh _ fly by her head, and dropped to the ground on instinct. She looked up to see a ring of fire explode around the Mage. Baz was approaching him, twisting his hands, and baring his fangs. It looked like serpents of fire were wrapping around the Mage, temporarily stopping his spell. 

Penny hauled herself up, and fell at Simon’s side. He was brutally injured, and she held her fingers at his throat. His pulse was slow, and weak. He was dying. 

“Simon.” She said pulling him up. He was heavy, but she was fueled by adrenaline. “Don’t you fucking die. Don’t die, Simon, please.” She pulled him so he was leaning against her, his head on her shoulder. He mumbled something but she couldn’t hear him. 

At the same time she looked up, she heard Baz yell her name. She saw the Mage break out of the fiery trap, his eyes blazing and reflecting the flames. He screamed a spell and aimed it at Simon. Without thinking, Penny threw her body over Simon’s, and used her magic to try and create a shield. 

“Just stay alive.” She whispered to Simon. 

The spell slammed into her back. Every part of her being burst into pain, and she screamed before her vision went black, and her mind faded to unconscious.

 

**_Baz POV_ **

Baz was an angry person, everyone knew that. But he was sure he had never felt the pure, white hot rage that he felt when he saw the Mage attacking Simon. He was shaking with fury, and he had tunnel vision on killing the Mage.

But, Baz knew he couldn’t finish this, not on his own. He sent spells out so quickly he could feel his magic swell inside of him and boil in his veins. Fire snaked around his fingertips, and the smell of smoke engulfed the entire area. He knew that the oxygen was thinning, all the magic was mixing together and poisoning the atmosphere. Deadly spells kept clipping him, but he could manage that.  

The fire was quickly thickening around them, and it proved to be a more difficult challenge. Baz knew that he couldn’t let himself step close to the roaring flames, not even for a second. But even still, his inner pyromaniac wanted to keep burning; he was empowered by the raging flames. He was creating a firework display of colour. His fire spat at him and he felt the prickling burn of rising heat against his cold skin. 

The Mage broke through his barrier of fire, and sent a spell that his Baz in his chest, and froze him for a second. Even though it only held him in place for a moment, it gave the Mage enough time to turn his attention to Bunce and Snow. Baz screamed to warn them, his eyes wide in horror. 

He watched as Bunce threw herself over Snow, and a dome of magic covered them. The Mage’s spell hit the dome with a resonating  _ crack _ and Bunce’s magic shattered like glass. Baz heard her screaming, but the only thing on his mind was Simon. Simon could not die. 

Baz yanked his limbs free from the spell and raised his wand in the air, clenching it firmly and bellowed out a fury of spells. One after the other, the spells sliced through the air at rapid speed, catching the Mage off guard and sending him staggering back several steps. The Mage was startled but was beginning to prepare spells that would counter the fire that was relentlessly knocking him backwards. But Baz wouldn’t let him. 

His magic was in overdrive, it was burning up like gasoline. They got more and more powerful with every incantation. Baz’s eyes were watering, and his pupils lit up like burning charcoal. As he focused his power, his movements became more and more elegant and precise. His tone was malicious, he was going to burn and burn until he was empty. 

In his fit of rage, he could barely glance over to the comatose bodies of Bunce and Snow. The Mage was struggling to keep up with Baz’s perfectly executed spells, he just had to keep on blocking them until… Until…

Baz choked on his words, the flames in his veins dissipated and he felt his muscles convulse; his magic had run dry. Embers and sparks fizzled out onto the charred ground and disappeared. His wand arm fell to his side and he looked down at it weakly, then up at the Mage. His magic had been so strong, and now he felt light headed with it’s absence. Everything was silent except for the crackling of the burning debris that circled them. The wind howled and blew smoke into Baz’s eyes, but that wasn’t why he was crying. 

The Mage locked eyes with Baz, and he began twitching and sputtering with uncontainable laughter. He started to clap his hands, the echoing slap of calloused palms were ringing in Baz’s ears making him wince. 

“That was quite the performance Mr. Pitch!” His voice boomed out and made Baz seem small. He noticed that the Mage could not stay still, and his movements were jittery. The whites of his eyes were glowing with power. “But you made an amateur mistake.” The Mage flicked his wrist and muttered under his breath. Baz’s knees buckled and he fell forward. He was exhausted. The Mage sent another spell at Baz, and he gasped as he felt the oxygen leave his lungs. 

The Mage grinned as he watched Baz sputter and choke without air. Baz sneered at him, clutching his throat. He prayed for help. He could feel his face turning purple, and his heart was furiously pumping, trying to find a trace of oxygen. He felt a pressure start to build in his head from lack of oxygen; his limbs tingled, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. 

_ Simon.  _ Baz chanted in his mind.  _ Just let Simon live.  _ He felt tears slipping down his face, and he realized his vision was blurring. He could feel blood dripping from where he was scratching at his neck, and the Mage just laughed.  _ Simon.  _ Baz thought blearily. He felt lightheaded.  **_Simon._ **


	3. Simon and Baz

_**Simon POV** _

Simon jerked awake. He hadn’t awoken on his own accord; he had been summoned. At first, he thought it was the Mage attacking again. But then he felt the warmth of Baz’s magic.

_Baz._

Simon snapped his head up. His eyes locked onto Baz who was kneeling in front of the Mage, clutching his throat. He looked over at Simon, and Simon saw fear and pain in his eyes. Simon hardly ever saw Baz so vulnerable. And he saw red.

He didn’t even feel his own pain; his injuries, and tiredness became distant. He grabbed Penny’s shoulders- when had Penny gotten here?- and without even thinking, or speaking, he sent a wave of healing magic over her. He had never used a spell like that (he didn’t even know he had enough magic left to do that) and he wasn’t even sure what spell it was. He just wanted to heal, and protect her.

“It’ll be okay, Pen.” He mumbled.

“What a touching scene.” The Mage cooed in a nasty voice.

Simon looked up, and stood shakily. Baz was still struggling in front of him. The Mage opened his mouth, but Simon lunged forward. He remember’s Penny telling him about transferring magic when Simon had given his magic to Baz; it needed something magical to transfer between two people. For Simon and Baz, it was their connection. For the Mage it had been the spell he used. Simon didn’t know if this would work, but it was his last resort. His friends would not die.

He used the last bit of magic to summon the sword, and yelled as he charged him. The Mage looked shocked at the direct attack, and he didn’t have time to switch his spell from Baz to Simon. Baz collapsed, released from the spell, and gasped for air. The Mage had just turned to Simon, when Simon drove the sword through his stomach.

The Mage froze. He choked, and stared at Simon. Then he laughed. Blood spewed from his lips, and Simon would never forget how it sounded to hear someone laugh while choking on blood. It was an awful, gurgling noise.

“Did you,” The Mage sputtered, “Did you think you could actually kill me with that sword?”

Simon shook his head. “No.” His voice was rough, and broken. He pushed the word in deeper, and twisted. “But I can at least get my magic back.”

The Mage laughed, and spewed more blood out. “It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just will the magic to be yours.”

“You can’t.” Simon said. His grin mimicked the Mage’s as he saw a flicker of uncertainty. “But _I_ can.”

Simon remembered how it felt to share his magic with Baz, and he reversed the feeling. Instead of letting the magic flow, he pulled it back, clawing tooth and nail for it. He gritted his teeth, and pushed the sword in further, holding the Mage in place. At first, he didn’t think it would work- Simon could control magic in extraordinary ways, but willing it to be his was a stretch. But then he felt it.

His magic was mixed with the Mages, but he couldn’t control what he took, or separate them. The magic was exploding around them in an array of colours; he kept grabbing metaphorical buckets of magic, and felt the power bubble up under his skin. He looked up and saw his eyes glowing in the reflection of the Mage’s horrified eyes.

Once Simon had taken the first few bouts of magic, the dam broke and it flooded into his being. Smoke was billowing from him, and fires were exploding in the dryness of the area. He hoped Baz and Penny were out of range of the magic.

“Simon,” The Mage croaked, gripping the sword.

He ripped the sword out and the Mage stumbled back. Simon felt full of magic, and it was a buzzing high he could never get used to. His grip was so tight on the sword, his knuckles were locked in place. The Mage fell to the ground. Simon backed away, but he was stopped by an invisible line. He jerked back, but he couldn’t move.

“What-” Simon questioned. He looked over at the Mage, who was on the ground. Magic was still swirling from him to Simon, even though the connection had been broken. Simon tried to stop it. He tried to build the wall up again, but the current was too strong. He felt horror seep into his stomach. He had seen what too much magic had done to the Mage. He couldn’t let himself lose it like the Mage had.

“Simon.” This time is was Baz. Simon glanced over, and saw Baz was on his hands and knees. His eyes were sunken in, and he had blood streaming from multiple wounds. He looked so helpless. Simon reached out and a zap of magic hit the ground next to Baz. Simon pulled his hand back.

“Baz, I don’t-” He didn’t know what to do.

Baz looked up at him. “Lose control, Simon. Let go.”

Simon knew what he meant. But he had never consciously went off before. He focused his attention on the Mage. He could hear Baz scrambling to Penny, but he knew they would still be in range. He closed his eyes and focused. _Get rid of the Mage. Nobody else dies. Get rid of the Mage. Nobody else dies._

He felt wings rip out of his back, tearing through his clothes like tissue paper,  and his feet left the ground. He was floating above the Mage,  and he felt the magic seeping into his veins. It vibrated like a hive of bees, and shook him to the core. There was so much magic. He pointed the sword at the Mage.

_Get rid of the Mage. Nobody else dies._

When Simon went off, it felt like a thousands explosions. It was worse than when he burnt himself, or get a battle wound. It felt like every cell in his body was tearing itself apart, then reforming. He felt all his rage and power launch itself like a missile at the Mage. And when it hit it’s target Simon let go.

 

_**Baz POV** _

Baz couldn’t get Bunce and himself far enough away. Hell, he could have dragged their asses the mars they still wouldn’t be out of range. He began mumbling every shield spell he knew. Penny had woken up when Snow had healed her, and she began mumbling protective spells, too.

When they heard loud flapping noises, they looked up to see Snow floating in the air. And Baz’s breath hitched. Snow didn’t look like a boy, or a soldier. He looked like an avenging angel. He glowed with magic, sending sparks out that would rival a lighting bolt. His magic rippled across the field, and Baz almost lost consciousness

Simon pointed the sword down, and Penny covered her face, curling into Baz’s chest; he barely noticed her. His eyes were transfixed on Simon. He could visibly see the string of magic heading towards the Mage. It looked like the aurora borealis on acid, a wash of different colours. He knew he should turn away. But he couldn’t move his eyes, or cover his ears.

And when Simon went off, it was a moment Baz would never forget. He didn’t emit smoke, and pass out like he normally did. It was like his magic was a bomb that detonated. Baz remembered Simon telling him about a war that had happened in the human world decades ago. He showed Baz a video of this explosion (an atomic bomb, whatever that was) that had devastating results; Simon said it had been one of the most powerful weapons on earth.

Baz was thrown back by the ferocity of the magic. The atomic bomb paled in comparison to what Baz was witnessing. Simon wasn’t a bomb; he was a supernova.


	4. Simon

_**Simon POV** _

Simon woke in a cold sweat; he felt dizzy, as if he was floating. His head felt like it had been caved in with a brick, and although his arms were crossed over his chest, and legs curled up against him they felt disconnected. His entire body was enveloped in large layers of tough red skin and the only light he could see through the darkness was faintly shining through the bizarre skin. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it was something protruding out from his shoulder blades.

It hurt to move. It hurt to lay still too, but Simon didn’t care too much for the pain; he just wanted to know what had happened. He tried desperately to wriggle out from the mysterious cocoon that had him helplessly trapped, but it was too dark to find any kind of opening. He huffed, and his throat ached. 

He looked around, but there wasn’t enough light to see anything. Instead, he focused his mind on remembering what had happened… what  _ had _ happened? He closed his eyes so tight that it hurt and started flipping through memories. He dug as deep as he could, trying to find a hint to whatever had happened. Simon felt certain things rushing back to him; he could remember heat on his face and the feeling of utter betrayal. And then he remembered the taste of blood pooling in his mouth and screaming until his voice was raw and stinging. The Mage, Baz and Penny; he remembered all of their faces illuminated by moonlight and flames that were drawing so close he felt like he was being cooked alive. 

All these memories flooding his mind made him feel sick. Guilt, loss, rage; they poisoned his stomach, and he had to concentrate on not throwing up. The last thing he needed was to be covered in vomit. 

Then, he remembered his wings. Colossal flaps of skin and bone erupting from his back, connecting right at the bone as if they were really a part of him. With his eyes still squeezed shut, Simon let his magic flow through him, and this time it felt static- it didn’t feel like his own. He jolted. The intensity, and unfamiliarity caught him off guard and gave him electric shocks that surged through all of his nerve endings. He took a deep breath, and ignored the tears prickling his eyes. He didn’t let that phase him, and he tried again.

This time he was ready for the power to shoot through his veins, and it shot through him at light speed. He willed the wings to unfold, he tried everything he could but they stayed solidly draped around him. He was starting to feel claustrophobic, as if his wings were caving in on him. Simon thought he was suffocating, and he started to thrash around violently. Hysteria was sending him into a panic, and he was giving up hope; irrationally, he started to think he’d be trapped forever until he died of starvation (he’d never taste a scone again).

He froze when he heard a voice in the back of his mind. He couldn’t make out what it was saying but he recognized that it was Penny. He forced himself to try to think like Penny.  _ You’re a mage.  _ She would have said.  _ Think, Simon, think! _

He tried to recall every spell he knew, and cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. He placed his hand on the wing skin in front of his face and let his magic send sparks out of his palms, whispering softly, “ **Nonsense** .” 

Simon’s magic spread throughout the entirety of his wingspan, shooting out from his shoulder blades and sending electric shocks down his spine. The wings twitched and spasmed, opening up enough so that Simon could see real sunlight start to shun away the darkness. At first it was blinding, and Simon snapped his eyes closed, covering them with his hands. Slowly, he tried to open them, adjusting them to the sudden light. He pulled his fingers away, and squinted, focusing his eyes on the surroundings that were coming into view. His wings fell limp on either side of him, heavy with fatigue from straining for too long.

Simon stretched out each of his limbs and heard his bones and muscles crack. He had been laying there for so long that he forgot what it had felt like to move. With great effort, he pushed himself up from the dusty ground, and his vision blurred as blood rushed from his head. His wings were trying to anchor him back down, and he strained against the resistance. He stood up, and swayed, trying to find his equilibrium; between the dizziness and his wings it was extremely difficult. His vision began to focus, and what he saw made his stomach drop. 

He realized that he was sat in a large crater, and he could only just see bare tree branches if he looked up. Debris and ash were scattered around his feet and there was no sign of life anywhere. The crater walls were towering above Simon, and he had no idea how he would get up there. He wasn’t even sure if he was capable of flying with these wings.

Simon stumbled to the edge of the crater (he tripped a few times) and leaned heavily against the burned, dirt wall. He willed his wings to extend, and they twitched before they began to cooperate; lifting them to rest against his back took an enormous amount of energy. He tried to flap his wings, but cried out in pain at the movement. It was like that time when he had jammed his finger whilst playing footie, and couldn’t use his hand for a few weeks. His wings hung limply, and he exhaled in annoyance. He couldn’t will them away, but they were nothing more than a nuisance. 

He dug his fingers into the side of the crater, dirt pushing under his fingernails, and ground his teeth together.  **Out** , he thought,  **I want to get out of this crater.** Immediately, he felt the uncomfortable stinging shoot out of his finger tips, and roots began sprouting from the dirt. They wrapped around his torso and limbs, pulling him into the sky. It reminded him of a movie he had watched at the group home when he was younger, Jack and the Magic Beanstalk. The roots were jabbing into his ratty shirt, and he was grateful when they set him down on the side of the crater. It must have been a few stories deep, and Simon crawled away quickly. The last thing he needed was to fall back in. 

He looked up, and gasped at the area. The dirt was stained a muddy green devoid of all moisture, and all the trees were stripped to the trunk; there was no leaves, grass, or plants anywhere. He whipped his head around, his eyes wide. The entire area was covered in a toxic green mist. The sun shone through the dark clouds in an eerie shade of lime. Simon stood up, and turned in a full circle. There was no-one. No animals. No footprints.

Just endless hills of jagged tree trunks, poisoned dirt, and nothingness. 

He clutched at his head, and gripped his greasy curls (U HAPPY NOW HMM) Tears blurred his vision, and his nose burned. He let out a choked sob, inhaled, and screamed. He felt lighting spring from his body, and magic thrummed through his bones. He screamed again, and again, sending shockwave after shockwave into the oblivion. He was a thunderstorm in a dry desert wasteland. He wanted Penny. He wanted Baz. He couldn’t stand being so alone. 

His stomach dropped as he realized he didn’t even know where Penny and Baz were. He looked up, and wiped his eyes angrily. He couldn’t seem to orient himself; the forest was obliterated, and any landmark had been destroyed. He had no idea how long he had been in his winged cocoon, or if he was still in the same place. Had he teleported himself? Or them?

He fell down, exhausted. His body burned as if he had been electrocuted, and he rolled onto his side. His wings were bent at awkward angles, but he couldn’t move them. 

Simon’s heart ached for his friends. He felt vulnerable, and very, very small. Tears slipped from the corner of his eye, over his nose, and across his cheekbone. He became aware of the dry ach of his tongue, and incessant pains from his stomach. He had no idea when he last ate, or had a drink. Maybe a few hours before the war… But how long had it been from the war?

He drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of the passing of time. It was like his mind had overridden his panic, and forced him to calm down. When he awoke, the sun had set, and the moon had replaced it. Simon could barely see in the dim light. He sat up, and shivered from the cold- he didn’t have a jacket, only his ripped, and bloodstained shirt. 

As if on instinct, his sprained wings wrapped around his torso. He panicked at first, scared that they would cocoon themselves again, but they left his face uncovered. His ears, neck and body were covered, and soon he began to warm up. Even if he couldn’t fly with them, at least he wouldn’t freeze. 

He heard a loud caw from a bird, and he snapped his head up to the sky. He widened his eyes, trying to see through the darkness. It was the first sign of life he had seen, and he was desperate not to lose it. He began walking in the direction he thought he had heard it, and came to a tall, burnt tree trunk. It stood at least fifteen feet tall, and at the top there was a dark figure. 

Simon blanched at the size of the bird. It spread it’s wings, and Simon stumbled backwards. It had a wingspan of nearly 10 feet (it was nearly as big as Simon’s) and it had reptilian skin. Leathery, black wings, with a face that resembled a turkey vulture. Simon tripped over an uneven pile of dirt, and fell back, throwing his arms out to catch himself. The bird let out another cry, and launched itself at Simon. 

Simon moved on what must of been his primitive instinct. He flung out his wings, hissing from the pain, and bared his teeth. He yelled and the bird halted it’s dive. It dropped down in front of Simon. Simon crouched, and flapped his wings (the panic of nearly being attacked by a fucking monster of a bird buried the physical pain). 

The bird folded its wings and cocked it’s head to the side. It stepped forward, but it’s defensive stance was gone. It stretched out it’s long neck (Simon, in his adrenaline rush, noted how ugly it was. It was hard to look at) and Simon shrunk back. The bird held itself still, and gave an almost inpatient caw. 

He wasn’t sure what had compelled him, other than idiocy, but he lifted his hand slowly, as if he was dragging it through molasses. Once it was level with the bird’s head, the bird leaned forward and nudged his hand. 

He was shocked, and calmed at the same time. Penny’s familiar magic was seeping from the bird, and he gaped at it. He remembered how she had talked to him through people, and animals, and immediately ran forward. 

“Penny?” Simon breathed. “You’re alright?” He croaked out frantically. His voice was a wreck, but it was almost like the bird understood him. It bobbed its head, as if nodding, and he almost cried in joy. “Oh my fucking- oh my god, I was so worried. I-I thought I was all alone.”

He felt relief warmth his body, and tears pricked his eyes once again. He was beyond relieved to know that Penny was alive, he felt like throwing up his insides. And if Penny was alive, there was a good chance Baz was too. His heart leapt at the thought. 

The bird cawed and bumped its head against Simon’s shoulder. “Can you talk?” He wondered out loud. The bird took a step back, and moved it’s head from side to side. “Fuck.” Simon muttered. 

Usually Penny could speak, or somehow put her words into his mind, but sometimes she couldn’t. It was always near the black holes, or where there was a strange amount of magic in the area. Simon glanced around, and once he concentrated, he could feel a low buzz of magic. If he was in the battlefield of the war, there would have been hundreds of wizards shooting spells into the air.

“I’m glad you’re here at least.” He said. Simon dreaded being alone, and knowing that Penny was here (metaphorically) comforted him immensely. “I’m alright, too. Nothing permanent, anyways.”

Simon shifted so he was sitting cross legged. His wings were relaxed - they felt like they had their own heartbeat from the exertion - and he ran a hand through his matted bronze curls. The bird stood in front of him, it’s wings tucked around it’s body. 

Simon tried to think of yes or no questions, but it was difficult.

“Are there others?”

A nod. 

“Did the war end?”

A shake. 

Simon cursed. But he didn’t really know what he had expected. He had woken up in a wasteland, which wasn’t caused from world peace. 

“Is B… is Baz okay?” He choked out. The bird cocked its head, and lifted up it’s wings a fraction before letting them fall. “Was that a shrug?” The bird nodded. 

He exhaled through his nose, and shook his head. He needed to know if Baz was okay. He needed to see him, hug him, hear his voice. He couldn’t imagine Baz not existing. 

“How long has it been?” Simon asked. Then, added. “Weeks?” A shake. “Months?” A  shake. “Years?” A nod. Simon’s jaw fell slack.

“Years?” He repeated in shock. “How many?” 

The bird cawed twice. 

Two years. 

Two _ whole  _ years.

Simon felt sick again. 

“Did you know where I was this whole time?” He looked at the bird, and it shook its head. “Did you even know if I was alive?” He whispered. It shook its head again, a little more hesitantly. 

Simon covered his face. Two years Penny spent looking for him. Two years of not knowing if he was okay, or even alive. He couldn’t- he didn’t want to think about what he would do if their roles were swapped. He would have gone mental with Penny. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He said. The bird didn’t respond, and Simon swiped the tears from his eye. He cleared his throat. “Am I near Watford?”

It nodded. Simon almost fist punched the air in excitement. “Are you near Watford?” It shook its head. Simon’s hopes plummeted back down. It cawed almost to console him. He tried not to let his mind wander too much. He would find Penny, and that was a promise.

“Okay,” He said with finality. “First things first, I need to find some kind of shelter. And food, and water. Think you can help me?” 

The bird cawed, and Simon grinned, his dry lips cracking. 


End file.
